


hold me to the light

by bloominsummer



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Escorts, Chaebol Kim Mingyu, Escort Jeon Wonwoo, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Praise Kink, References to Drugs, The Act of Undressing (insert trademark sign) as a Metaphor for Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26287615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/bloominsummer
Summary: It starts with Mingyu losing a game of poker and ends with Wonwoo losing his principles.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu
Comments: 35
Kudos: 487





	hold me to the light

**Author's Note:**

> firstly, two disclaimers: I know nothing, absolutely nothing about poker and there is very little plot in this.
> 
> secondly, an actual note: in cartomancy, the ace of hearts represents a new beginning, often stands for a breakthrough of feelings or an appearance of a love interest.
> 
> visit [this site](https://issuesintheworld.carrd.co/) & [stream 24h](www.youtube.com/watch?v=MmI-vsaOoUE) today
> 
> p.s. god i read through this one (1) time and i have not the strength to do it again so.... i'm sorry? sdfghgj

“I am not sure how you usually conduct these meetings,” the young man sitting across from Wonwoo begins with a formality attributed to having grown up in an affluent household. “This is my first time here.”

Wonwoo sets his glass of coffee on the table that separates the two of them and crosses his legs.

“I know.”

“You do? I can imagine how hard it is to remember everyone’s faces,” he says with no ill intention, only mild sympathy.

Whether it comes from faux courtesy or not, Wonwoo has yet to decide. 

“Face like yours,” he dips his tone in honey, “is hard to forget.”

The man’s shoulders shake lightly as he laughs, curly locks of dark hair falling into his eyes. They do nothing to hide the sharpness of his gaze. Of course, Wonwoo knew who he was before he opened the door and let the man inside the room today, but only by name and never association. After all, it’s in his job description to know every character in this little game of which he is as good as the puppet master.

Kim Mingyu has never stirred up trouble before and a man who steers clear of danger usually doesn’t schedule appointments with Jeon Wonwoo.

“I can see now why people keep coming back for more. Admittedly, it was a ridiculous notion to me at first, exchanging information that can be worth millions for an orgasm or two.” He assesses Wonwoo’s features and gives a small nod, as though agreeing with his proportions—or satisfied. “Turns out words are weapons after all, but not every syllable has to be deathly, yes? You can use them to lull someone into compliance, too.”

“Words are just words,” Wonwoo corrects him, not unkindly but still with an edge to his voice.

Mingyu looks taken aback, though he keeps any thoughts he has to himself.

“When they’re put in the correct order _,_ that’s power. Now, since you asked me a question, I have one on my own.” He carries on after an affirmative hum from Mingyu. “Are you here looking to sell or buy information?”

“Buy.”

Wonwoo can work with that. He uncrosses his legs and leans forward to look Mingyu straight in the eyes.

When striking a deal, it is important to display an open body language. Wonwoo has found it easier to gain people’s trust if they think he’s not here to fool them. If they believe that Wonwoo’s agenda consists only of serving them as long as it allows him to simultaneously feed his chasmic pocket.

“Ask me what you want to know and I’ll tell you what it will cost.”

A moment passes as Mingyu searches his features for hints of deceits. He takes no offence to the scrutiny. In this line of work, he’s used to such treatment. It's an occupational hazard Wonwoo can’t afford to object to.

Mingyu clears his throat and begins with, “I lost a game of high stakes against Boo Seungkwan.”

“Everyone loses against Boo Seungkwan at one point or another,” Wonwoo counters swiftly.

His reasoning is simple enough, which leads Wonwoo to believe that it is genuine. People tend to build intricate webs when it comes to lying, not understanding that the more complex it is, the easier it becomes for a trained mind to spot the inconsistencies in their story. Holes in their plots. 

In Mingyu’s, there is one: Wonwoo knows he’s lost more to lesser men and lived with the taunting that followed the defeat. To lose to a formidable opponent such as Seungkwan shouldn’t rattle him enough to pay Wonwoo a first visit.

“True enough,” Mingyu agrees with him. “Problem is, I wagered my penthouse.”

 _Which one?_ Wonwoo wonders to himself.

“Why not buy yourself another?”

As deep as Wonwoo’s treasury might run, he probably doesn’t have a tenth of what a single strand of hair on Mingyu’s precious head is worth. The Kims control the oil of the country, their domination over the market close to a monopoly. While Mingyu appears to spend his leisure time throwing away money as any other reckless young heirs in his circle, Wonwoo’s fully aware that unlike the others whose only goal at the table is to win, Mingyu finds it appropriate to lose to the right people.

Yes. Just because they haven’t personally met before doesn’t mean Wonwoo hasn’t been paying attention to him. He can’t help it. Mingyu is an interesting subject to study from a safe distance.

Until now, he supposes.

“I would, except the place has great sentimental value to me.”

Oh. So the rich boy appears to have sentiments.

“What sentimental value? You fucked your first woman in there?”

Wonwoo had hoped to surprise him with such bluntness. Much to his disappointment, Mingyu remains perfectly unbothered.

“Close. It was my first man, actually,” he offers with a salacious smile. “We took turns.” The smile morphs into a grin, one that puts his canines on proud display. “It was a fond recollection, you see, which made me got attached to the place.”

“So you want dirt on Seungkwan,” the escort reiterates, refusing to tear his gaze away from Mingyu although the dazed look on his face tells Wonwoo that the younger man is currently walking down the path of nostalgia. “Significant enough so that he has to return your penthouse when threatened with it.”

His eyes find Wonwoo’s. “Yes.”

Wonwoo considers the prospect. “Seungkwan’s not the kind of person I’d mess around with without proper incentive.”

“I’m aware of that, and I’d like to propose a bargain.”

“I don’t do bargains, Kim Mingyu-ssi." He shakes his head as emphasis. "You either take my price or leave.”

“Surely, there must be people before me who came looking to buy and sell at the same time,” Mingyu points out, tone remaining amicable. “I have information to offer you instead of worthless water-proof paper I doubt you have a lot of use for anymore.”

He neither confirms nor denies Mingyu’s statement.

“I’m listening,” he says simply.

“I know what happened to Wen Junhui’s yacht.”

“Which yacht?”

“The one’s left to decorate the South China Sea’s ocean bed.”

Wonwoo has to admit, that does pique his interest.

“How do I know your information is reliable? As you said, this is the first time we’ve been acquainted.”

“Once I tell you what I know, the discrete dots you’ve been seeing all this time will connect on their own.” Mingyu folds his hand together and settles them on his lap. To Wonwoo's judgment, he looks certain enough of his own value. “You can judge if I’m telling the truth from that and whether it’s worth the exchange for Seungkwan’s weakness.”

To test the waters, Wonwoo baits him with a question he already knows the answer to.

“Any casualties?”

A girl went missing from the yacht and was presumed dead when her body couldn’t be found in the wreckage, but Wonwoo strongly suspects she was deliberately made disappear along with the illegitimate child in her belly. Whose child, that’s the big mystery.

Mingyu leans back on his chair, gaze steady. “None. The only thing that got buried from that incident were secrets.”

The way he arches one perfect brow at Wonwoo seems to say, _that’s exactly the kind of thing you’re into, isn’t it?_

Well.

He isn’t so wrong about that.

“Go ahead, then. Cards on the table, Mingyu-ssi.”

It seems that slow-rolling isn’t Mingyu’s style, because he goes straight for the jugular. He gives Wonwoo the girl’s name, her last known whereabouts, and exactly who Junhui had taken such great risk for: a childhood friend he’s grown to love in hiding. By the time Mingyu’s finished with his little speech, Wonwoo’s already painted a full picture of the events that transpired in his head.

Satisfied, he reaches for the small notepad above the table in front of him and the pencil laid next to it. Scribbles a name down and rips off the paper, tears the part with the hotel’s name and logo before he hands it over to Mingyu.

Mingyu takes the paper from his extended hand. His mouth moves as he reads the two words written on it in silence, then he lifts his head again to stare blankly at Wonwoo.

“Who’s this?”

“Boo Seungkwan’s secret lover.”

“This is the best you’ve got?” asks Mingyu, a disappointed pout on his face. “A secret lover.”

“He’s a foreigner,” the escort informs him. That should be enough information to alleviate Mingyu’s worries.

“Oooh,” he whistles. “That _is_ a bummer. Seungkwan’s parents would kill him for that.”

“Seems likely.”

“Is he wealthy, at least?”

Wonwoo hums as he considers whether to tell Mingyu or not, settling with yes in the end.

“As far as I know, he makes music for a living.” The guy is sweet by what little of his character has reached Wonwoo’s ears, but there must be something underneath the surface that managed to draw Seungkwan to him.

Things are seldom what they seem at first glance, after all.

“But Seungkwan hates the working class.”

He has to refrain from making an unwarranted comment regarding that particular stance.

Wonwoo straightens the sleeves of his top for a moment before answering, “You haven’t seen the face on this guy.”

“I guess when you’re both naked it’s hard to tell who’s got more money,” Mingyu shrugs and runs his fingers through his hair. The black titanium ring on his index finger glints underneath the overhead light, mischievous. “Although I did hear words about Seungkwan’s navel piercing, how it’s adorned with gemstones and whatnot.”

“Those aren’t just words.”

“Oh, how interesting.”

“You better leave people to their vices, Mingyu-ssi,” Wonwoo tells him, voice gentle and gaze anything but. “To each their own.”

Giving him a nod, Mingyu proceeds to rise from his seat. He tucks the note inside the pocket of his jeans and looks down at Wonwoo, face devoid of any emotion that may betray his true intentions.

“I suppose that means I should leave you to yours.”

“You can.”

“Is there an _or_ hidden in there somewhere?” There’s a smile in his question.

Wonwoo wets his lips.

“Or you can collect your dues.” He stands up too and angles his body toward Mingyu. Their height difference is perfect for kissing, though Wonwoo doesn’t plan to spend all the time they have left standing up. “It’s not just words that made them keep coming back to me.”

He offers Mingyu a hand, which the younger man takes easily. In a blink, the distance between them is gone.

Wonwoo has learned that some people prefer detachment when committing the act. The acknowledgement that lust is the only thing that brings them here time and time again is important to them. They need to be in control while doing what they’re doing, need to think that they’ve got Wonwoo under their mercy and not the other way around.

It’s not like they’re hurting his feelings by treating him as an object. In the end, all of them are pawns on Wonwoo’s chessboard. So whatever they need from him—Wonwoo lets them have it.

He hasn’t quite figured out what Mingyu’s preferred elixir is, but if he had to guess he’d say the younger man enjoys intimacy much more.

They’re close now, closer than ever before, so close that Mingyu’s curls are tickling Wonwoo’s forehead, the scent of his aftershave filling Wonwoo’s every inhale. Wonwoo slips his fingers in between Mingyu’s and squeezes, bumping their noses together.

“Truth be told, I almost kicked you out for your poor fashion sense,” he admits quietly, then looks down past the see-through black shirt to highlight his point.

Mingyu catches his drift without difficulty. “What’s wrong with the belt holster?”

“Are you cosplaying as your father on a golf retreat?” Wonwoo shots back, leaning away to gauge Mingyu’s answer from his expression. His brows are drawn together as he returns Wonwoo’s gaze, bright eyes full of inquiries. “I didn’t think so.”

“I’ll make sure to get rid of it.”

Mingyu’s hand slides around his body and settles at the small of his back before it slowly but surely creeps upward. Wonwoo holds himself still and witnesses the way the muscle of Mingyu’s jaw ticks when his fingers catch onto the slit of his shirt. Since they’re both still fully clothed at this point, the first skin to skin contact comes from Mingyu’s hand slipping through the slit, wide palm now splayed over Wonwoo’s lower back. He trails down Wonwoo’s spine until he arrives at the waistband of his pants.

“Wouldn’t be easier if we take this off?” Mingyu prompts, somewhat soft.

“Take it off, then.”

He retracts the hand inside Wonwoo’s shirt and brings the other one to join it in raising the fabric and pulling it over his head. Mingyu deems it suitable to work on the button of Wonwoo’s pants next, but the escort slaps his hand away when it purposefully moves in that direction.

“What?”

“Undress yourself and sit on the bed,” Wonwoo instructs him. “I can handle myself from here.”

“And what state of undress do you have in mind for me?”

“The one that has your cock out and ready to go.”

Wonwoo eyes his crotch as he answers and can’t help but notice the way Mingyu is already straining against his jeans. The younger has to shift his stance right after, for what purpose Wonwoo is not entirely sure. More than it being an embarrassment, it’s quite a compliment to know the kind of responses he can draw out of Mingyu with just a few words.

This serves Wonwoo’s point earlier. Words, when arranged in the correct order, is power.

And because of that, he has all the power here. The blanket of security is assuring enough for him to slip out of his pants without a hesitant thought. Then, Wonwoo waits for Mingyu to do the same.

The younger takes his time with it, not appearing to be the eager, desperate fuck Wonwoo has imagined he would be. Maybe this will last long enough for Wonwoo’s liking, then. What a pleasant surprise that would be, in addition to Mingyu’s previous offering.

Secrets and sex. Jeon Wonwoo’s two favourite things in the whole world. Such taste he has for them, he makes a living that involves not one but both aspects.

Once he's safely freed himself of the last article previously clinging to his body, it appears that Mingyu decided to assume full nudity, a state which Wonwoo has no protest over. He’s situated himself on the bed and propped a pillow behind his back, legs spread wide open as an invitation. His cock rests against his stomach at half-mast and there’s a prominent vein right along the underside Wonwoo immediately takes into mental account.

From his experience, if he runs his tongue to follow the path that vein makes going from the base up, mouths at the head before he sucks fervently and applies pressure onto the slit, he’d get this rich boy to pay him frequent visits from now on.

To ensure that, Wonwoo has to learn a thing or two about Mingyu’s preferences.

And so he asks, “How’d you want me?”

A flash of surprise passes through Mingyu’s features. Wonwoo guesses it’s the sudden change of roles that catches him off-guard. With the way Wonwoo was talking before, it might have seemed like he’d hold the reins tightly for today. And Mingyu didn’t seem to mind that, so this fact Wonwoo jots down as a possible liking. Still, the younger regains a semblance of composure soon enough and tilts his head back before answering Wonwoo’s question.

“On my lap.”

There’s no please thrown in there and Wonwoo wants to pretend like he’s put out by the ill manner. He would have done that, if not for the fact that Mingyu has started to leak onto his own body. All Wonwoo’s done so far is stand there without anything to cover his modesty.

This can be bad. Wonwoo feeds off the silent validation; an opinion given without prompting, the candour of it. Not that he hasn’t gotten plenty from other people before, but there’s just something about Mingyu, the air around him.

This feeling inside him that he can’t name, he knows will frustrate him to his wit's end later when he makes a report of their meeting in Mingyu’s personal folder, cataloguing each reaction the younger gives him today and what he can make of them. Wonwoo’s a man of rational thinking, which means he mostly keeps away from matters of the heart.

He yanks himself out of that headspace. _Heart_ , really? For this insolent brat? Why? Just because he happens to have more functioning brain cells than some? Wonwoo knows better than that. Or at least he should, but at this moment what he wants more than to inscribe details for further exploitation is sit on Mingyu’s lap as he was told.

“Facing you?”

Mingyu rolls his shoulders. His hair falls onto his eyes again and he exhales a breath to blow them to the side.

“You can decide that for yourself,” he says to Wonwoo, patting his thighs as a prompt.

It resonates in Wonwoo’s ears, the sound of his palm meeting flesh. Makes him wonder how’d it sound like if it was him Mingyu was slapping instead.

“Away it is, then.”

Instead of going to Mingyu directly, Wonwoo walks over to the chair in the corner of the room to retrieve the items of importance from his bag. He throws the bottle of lube at Mingyu, who catches it with both hands. Easy. Then, because he hasn’t had to use this size in the past couple of weeks, Wonwoo has to rip the plastic wrap around the condom box. He does it while making his way to the bed and by the time he gets there, the rubber in his hand is ready for Mingyu’s perusal.

“So soon?” Mingyu asks when Wonwoo rolls the condom down his shaft in one swift, practised move.

Perhaps he wants to kiss first. Build up the tension, draw a moan or two out of Wonwoo. Maybe he wants to grind, hump, or do something else equally as ineffective for the goal Wonwoo has in mind.

“Appreciate the efficiency, Mingyu-ssi.” He places one knee on the bed, the other following suit. “I don’t keep my clients waiting for long.”

“I was only making sure.” Mingyu doesn’t sound offended, which is good. “Would love to work you open next time, though. Or maybe watch you do it to yourself.”

Wonwoo holds back a laugh. He hasn’t even gotten Mingyu to come once and the phrase _next time_ has already escaped him. Good to know he hasn’t lost his edge, then. The big fish is successfully hooked on his line and Wonwoo’s arousal is only spurred on by the triumph. He brings his body over Mingyu’s lap just as he was asked, both of them facing the same directions. Wonwoo’s knees are still propped on the mattress, Mingyu’s hand nowhere near his body.

The escort squirts a dollop of lubricant onto his palm, wetting Mingyu’s length thoroughly before swiping across his entrance. Warm slick from his previous play is mixed with a new, cool sensation. As soon as he finishes, Wonwoo glances back at Mingyu.

“Hands on my waist, if you’d please,” says Wonwoo to the younger man.

He does, in fact, please.

“Are you ready?”

Mingyu’s thumbs rub soothing circles on the curve of Wonwoo’s body. “Are _you_?”

As an answer to that retort Wonwoo lowers himself on Mingyu’s cock, inch by inch while the other man groans at the heat enveloping his erection. Wonwoo tightens his ring of muscle on purpose to apply additional pressure and Mingyu’s hips jerk at the sudden contraction, sending almost his full length into Wonwoo’s body. His movement jolts Wonwoo forward, the grip on his waist is vice-tight—bringing him to a standstill. Not that Wonwoo has any plans of escaping in the first place.

“Guess I was more ready than you were,” he tuts, playful.

With a little bit of effort, he straightens his back and starts massaging Mingyu’s thighs, until one of Mingyu’s hands slide around his abdomen and tilts his body in the opposite direction. Wonwoo’s back settles against Mingyu’s toned chest.

“You’re...” Mingyu searches for his breath more than he searches for the words to carry on.

Wonwoo clenches around him again.

“God. That feels—“

“Good?”

“Mhmm.”

“I haven’t even started moving, Mingyu-ssi,” he points out. “You’re not gonna come like this, are you? So soon?” Wonwoo mimics his tone when he asks the last question, a mockery he hopes Mingyu’s nature will allow him to make.

He’s correct.

“Give me some credit.”

Mingyu reaches to the side for the bottle of lube and uncaps it with a flick of his thumb.

While watching him, Wonwoo begins to move. Slow. He wants to drags it out. Absentminded rolls of his hips, free fingers threading through Mingyu’s dark locks that smells like sandalwood. A masculine musk befitting the man.

Then, Mingyu pours a generous amount of the transparent liquid over the head of Wonwoo’s cock and the sensation makes him squirm, losing what little pace he has managed to establish.

It matters not, because as Mingyu’s fist come to wrap around his shaft, the younger decides it’s due time that he contributes to their act. His hips lift off the mattress as he thrusts into Wonwoo’s welcoming entrance, now no longer meeting the resistance it had before since Wonwoo’s focus is entirely on the sensation of his broad strokes as well as the delicious slide of Mingyu’s cock over his prostate.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, Mingyu lifts Wonwoo’s legs from the bed and lines them up with his own.

How fun.

It probably would have been over much sooner if they had assumed a different position. With Wonwoo flat on his back or all fours, Mingyu would have better control of his angle, more room to gain momentum before he pushes his way inside. But this is good, this is better than most of the sex Wonwoo’s ever had—and he’s had plenty. Mingyu jostles his body with every upward pistoning of his hips and he’s keeping his fist mostly stationary, just fucking Wonwoo into it whenever he raises Wonwoo’s lower half in tandem with his own.

Wonwoo turns his face to the side and starts kissing Mingyu’s cheek, leaning away at an awkward angle to nibble at his outer lobe.

“Mingyu-ssi.”

“Yes?”

“You’re doing very good.” Saccharine sweet whisper, directly into the intended receiver’s ear. “It’s almost like this is your payment to me and not the other way around.”

The tip of Mingyu’s ear turns scarlet and Wonwoo is beyond satisfied with that reaction. These kids and the lack of validation from their parental figure in early life predictably culminates in a praise kink to satisfy their complex, one way or another. This one right here is not an exception to the rule, it seems.

“Would’ve entered into a business agreement with you sooner had I known this was on the table.”

“You talk more while being filled up,” Mingyu comments, but it’s a far cry from a protest.

“Do you like that? Me talking to you while we fuck? I can do it mo— _ah_ —more, if you’d like.”

Mingyu noses at his jaw. “Tell me how you feel.”

“You’re big. Bigger than the ones I’ve had in a while, slightly bigger than the dildo I used to prepare myself for you.”

He grows larger inside of Wonwoo, as though the compliment inflates not only his ego.

“So it stings a little, Mingyu-ssi. But you’re experienced at this, aren’t you?” Wonwoo trails his index finger down Mingyu’s forearm, golden skin satin-smooth to the touch save for a few soft hairs. “After all, you’ve fucked plenty. Been fucked yourself. You know the tune. I do too.”

He omits a soft sigh when Mingyu’s thumb rubs circles at his frenulum. A reward, maybe, for the things he’s said up to this point.

“Your. Noises,” Mingyu punctuates each word with a small thrust, “’s a good tune.”

So Wonwoo sighs again.

“Some I've been with isn't familiar with being on the receiving end, so they don't know what feels good for me when I'm in this role. Others know and don’t care.”

This time Mingyu snaps. “Why are you talking about other people when I’m the one pleasing you right now?”

The brief flare of possessiveness is hard to miss, but Mingyu’s tone is too petulant for it not to be amusing to Wonwoo. In a way, he’s sulking.

“I apologise,” Wonwoo meticulously tend to the wound he’s opened up in Mingyu’s pride. “It’s only a means of comparison, to emphasise my point.”

Mingyu grunts. “And what is it? Your point?”

“That you’re above them all.”

“Kiss me,” he demands then, voice as rough as uncut diamonds.

Wonwoo turns his head to the side and captures Mingyu’s bottom lip in between his teeth. Mingyu sucks in a deep breath, hips stuttering for a moment before he picks up his pace again. His strokes become more urgent, hurried. The escort continues kissing, nibbling, and licking in alternate, all the while grinding himself down on Mingyu, pushing his cock deeper inside his body. As far as it can go, all the way to the hilt.

 _This is good,_ Wonwoo thinks idly as he melts against Mingyu. _This is really good._

A guttural moan breaks free from of the back of Wonwoo’s throat when Mingyu’s hand grazes his nipple, catching them both by surprise.

“Oh. Sensitive?”

“Yes.” What’s the point of hiding this fact? “But also, your hand is cold.”

“Here, warm this one up,” Mingyu offers Wonwoo his left hand. “I didn’t get lube on it.”

Obediently, Wonwoo sucks two of Mingyu’s fingers into his mouth, tongue slipping in between the gaps as the wets the digits thoroughly. Mingyu latches onto his neck, hips still rolling with the same power he had in the beginning, and when he bites the edge of Wonwoo’s jaw, the escort purposefully chokes himself on the length inside his mouth.

“Easy there.”

“It’s warmed up,” says Wonwoo.

His patience is thinning, but he hopes Mingyu can’t tell.

Mingyu removes the hand from his mouth and puts them back on Wonwoo’s tensed bud. The escort is currently facing an overabundance of stimulation, attributed to Mingyu’s tendency to overachieve. No surprise there. Perhaps Wonwoo shouldn’t have praised him as much before.

His mind is beginning to cloud, not knowing which part of his body to pay attention to. Sensory neurones fire away at the ministrations Mingyu is giving him, sending a string of action potentials to his brain that carries only one word: _come_. The heat inside still hasn’t melted away, and now Wonwoo’s throbbing in Mingyu’s hand too, his cock having a pulse of its own. The rest of his focus divided between the wet kisses along the slope of his neck and the adventurous hand roaming down his torso.

“I won’t last very long if you keep doing this.”

There’s a sound Wonwoo’s consciousness refuses to register as what it is. Surely, he must’ve heard it wrong. Mingyu did not just chuckle in the middle of sex. Right?

“You’re being very honest.” He chuckles _again_. The vibration is unmistakable, Wonwoo feels it against his skin. “It’s refreshing.”

Very well. Two can play this game.

“I’ll be even more honest with you, then.” Mingyu’s cheek rubs against his as he nods and Wonwoo deliberately moans. “Right now, I want you to come inside me.”

There’s a hand kneading into the meat of his thigh, thick fingers slick with saliva applying enough pressure to leave bruises.

“Want you to give me all you have, everything. I promise I’ll take you so good, better than anyone has before, because you’re giving it to me just as well.”

He pulls himself up slightly by gripping the headboard and subsequently lets go, allowing gravity impale him on Mingyu’s hardness. Mingyu chokes on nothing, both grips on Wonwoo’s thigh and cock now tight as a drum.

“You’re the champion here, so come claim your trophy.”

Those words have the essence of magic.

The younger man pushes into him once, twice, and then he slips off the edge and loses his restraint, spilling fire all over. Wonwoo senses it coming two seconds before it happens as the hold around his shaft narrows to the point that it’s almost painful, but not quite. Mingyu climaxes in a manner that is far from violent, a silent show for a man whose everything screams grandness. Still, as his sole audience here today, it’s Wonwoo’s role to give him a standing ovation.

“You’re so good. So, so good.” He kisses Mingyu’s cheek once. Sweet. “I can’t believe how good you are. How good you make me feel.”

There’s more truth than trickery to that.

Mingyu exhales a long breath and before he inhales again, his nose right on the joint of Wonwoo’s neck and shoulder. It’s almost as if he’s making space in his lungs to fill with Wonwoo’s scent; a mix of sweet perfume and heady arousal. Then, just like that, he gathers his consciousness again and starts jerking Wonwoo off. His movements aren’t sloppy, he’s not rushing to get this over with by making Wonwoo come. Mingyu’s goal is to maximise pleasure and in this, Wonwoo appreciates his efforts.

“Close, Wonwoo-ssi?”

It’s the first time Mingyu’s said his name throughout the entirety of their meeting and Wonwoo is helpless against the shiver it sends ricocheting down his spine. He hopes it would just travel down his thighs—they’re shaking now—but it turns out he’s helpless against the direction the ripple decides to go, too. Blood accumulates through his shaft and Wonwoo swells, panting hotly as Mingyu offers him no reprieve, the flicks of his wrist professional, his cock inside Wonwoo is no less hard than it was before his release.

Wonwoo comes not long after that, the white strings painting his thighs trickling down to Mingyu’s because of the way they are lined up. The younger man pumps him through his orgasm and Wonwoo stays locked in his embrace until all of his convulsions have subsided. He can feel the kisses Mingyu peppers across his shoulder and upper arm. The sensation is rather faint, as though the pressure is applied on a limb that’s fallen asleep.

“I’ll pull out now,” Mingyu warns him, tone gentle.

He waits until Wonwoo nods before pulling out with a lewd noise that will surely ring in Wonwoo’s head for the days to come. Wonwoo closes his eyes and lets Mingyu manoeuvre him above the bed, lifting Wonwoo’s body off of his own and setting him down on the mattress like he weighs nothing. Compared to Mingyu, he probably does weigh nothing.

His eyes open again only when Mingyu’s wiping cum and lube off of his body with a towel. Once he’s done with the task, he sits at the edge of the bed and leans back on his palms. Wonwoo appreciates this gesture, too. The practicality of it all—how he’s not as presumptuous as to think Wonwoo would care to spend afterglow together.

A gift that’s given without being asked for in the first place is far more precious.

“So,” Wonwoo begins lightly as he fixes the position of the pillow beneath his head. He curls his index finger toward himself, a signal for Mingyu to come closer. There’s still plenty of time before their two hours are up, he might as well use it. “What else do you know?”

❤️ 🖤 🤍

As it turns out—Wonwoo’s not entirely sure for the better or worse—Kim Mingyu knows quite a lot. Though Wonwoo has a network of informants reporting to him, they mostly conduct their work from the shadows. They’re the waitresses at the bar who keep on refilling the drinks until the glasses overfill, the strangers who offer to share a lighter for a smoke on a cold night, the limousine drivers with a one-way mirror installed between the front and the back seats of their vehicles.

They all whisper things into Wonwoo’s ears, but Kim Mingyu is different.

Kim Mingyu is in the spotlight and thus should be of no use to Wonwoo, yet there are some vulnerabilities people only expose when the tension is high. Such as: when they’re dealt a bad hand at an exclusive poker game and their company's trade secrets are on the table.

“It’s called tilting,” Mingyu had informed him. “A person makes decisions that are far from perfect at the table because of the negative influences surrounding them.”

Wonwoo had raised a sceptical brow. “How do you take advantage of it?”

“I don’t plan out my strategies like you. I read the room and I do what feels right in my gut. Some people tilt slightly and they’d want to vent out their frustration over a bottle of liquor.”

“Your treat, of course.”

He had received a grin for that. “Of course. Others go on full tilt and become even easier targets.”

“How so?”

“Cognitive bias.”

Wonwoo must admit, Mingyu did impress him a little here. It gave the escort a little insight into the inner working of his mind, seemingly not as dull as a first glance would suggest.

The younger man had continued with, “It’s a neglect of probability. They’re angry and I come bearing a method to release that anger. There’s always a possibility that I have ulterior motives, but of this, they aren’t certain. What they are far more certain of is that my offered method _works_ and so the possible ulterior motives become a negligible risk.”

Now, even with his years of experience, infiltrating these games proves to be difficult for Wonwoo. There has never been a digital nor paper trail of the schedule. All invitations are from word of mouth only and the games are conveniently set for the day of the invitation is spread.

What events Wonwoo isn’t quick enough to know about, he can’t strategise his trespass into.

Mingyu gives him a way around that. He gets the invitation with little to no effort, wins some and loses some at the table, then brings back home more than anyone else is aware of. Every so often, Wonwoo ponders whether he had also neglected the probability of Mingyu having hidden intentions because he was more certain of the benefits their arrangement would bring.

The deal Wonwoo makes with him is the same as any other. He brings Wonwoo secrets worthy enough to trade, he gets to make a mess out of the escort in whichever way pleases him the most in each occasion. Wonwoo can only hope the damage done is only to the extent of his physical body, because there are some moments when he feels Mingyu fucking with his head.

For example:

One night Wonwoo ticked playing fiancé to a new tech millionaire off his to-do list and went straight to the hotel room he’s booked especially for Mingyu-related meetings. Contrary to what he’d expected, Mingyu wasn’t there when he arrived, so Wonwoo took it upon himself to shower and slip into some more comfortable clothes. Still à la mode, of course.

He’s practically done drying his hair when the front door beeps open and Mingyu enters the room.

“You showered,” Mingyu notes.

“Shimmering make up is good for aesthetic but it's not something you want to taste off of someone’s skin,” Wonwoo spells it out for him, hoping to lessen his disappointment. “The last thing I need is bad customer feedback.”

“Could’ve waited a while.” The younger moves to place the plastic bag in his hand above the drawer near the TV. “I would have appreciated an invitation.”

“What’s that?”

“Dinner.”

Mingyu takes off his jacket and walks to the wardrobe to hang it. All Wonwoo can do for a few moments is watch him until he starts unbuttoning his shirt to hang it as well. The spell breaks. Wonwoo snaps out of his trance.

“Dinner wasn’t included on the agenda.”

The edge to Wonwoo’s voice must have been impalpable, because Mingyu doesn’t even glance at him when he answers, “I just figured it can be for after.”

He proceeds to off his pants and the clinking of his buckle being undone sounds like a bomb going off in the distance.

“After,” Wonwoo echoes, tongue numb. “There is no after.”

Perhaps Mingyu had meant the limbo in between fucking and the running of sand in the hourglass. The period when Wonwoo can’t decide whether to kick him out because two rounds with Mingyu and he needs to tap out, or if he’d want to force himself to the point of exhaustion just to keep him around longer. Because when they stop fucking, and there are no secrets left to be exchanged as currency, that’s when Wonwoo is lost as to what to do.

But right now what Wonwoo perceives he is referring to by _after_ involves breaking the rules. Overstaying his two-hour welcome. What Mingyu means by _after_ is a time that doesn’t exist. A time when they can sit down and eat dinner together without it being a prologue to something else, without Wonwoo being paid for his companionship.

What Mingyu wants is a reality neither of them can afford. No matter how much money they throw at the wall, it still won’t budge. The barrier between their worlds is an immovable object.

Wonwoo promises himself he’d end it right there and then if Mingyu looks the slightest bit hurt. That’s what he does with everyone else because doesn’t want that kind of liability on his plate.

People can be addicted to him, but they need to know that Wonwoo’s still an illicit drug. They need to be aware of the repercussions of associating with him. The moment they start doing this, coming to him out of delusional notions such as love and romance, thinking they can get him to change for them—Wonwoo has no choice but to call it quits.

Usually, by the time they fall in love with him, he’s already got enough information about them to scare them into leaving him alone. Wonwoo thinks to Mingyu’s folder—

“Alright,” Mingyu shrugs his shoulder like it’s not a big deal. He looks unharmed by the rejection. “You can throw it out when we’re done, then.”

Wonwoo breathes in relief, but his heart constricts all the same. Again. Here’s another feeling he can’t name, unfamiliar and uncharted but real.

“Fine.” He forces himself to relax, rubbing the damp towel on his scalp a couple more times for good measure. “I hope you didn’t spend too much money on food. I thought you understood that’s not the kind of currency I accept around here.”

“Don’t worry.” Mingyu is grinning when Wonwoo looks up at him, a little boyish and a lot more charming than he’s supposed to be. “I didn’t spend lots of money, just time.”

“Time?”

“I cooked that myself,” he cocks his head to the direction of the plastic bag.

Wonwoo shouldn’t have asked—he shouldn’t have _asked_.

Never ask questions you’re not prepared to hear the answers to is the golden fucking rule. Now he’s is torn between berating himself for making such a rookie mistake and trying to ignore what Mingyu’s honest admission is doing to him.

“Come on.”

“Don’t you want the information first?” Mingyu asks, like he’s not the one who’s already dressed down to only his underwear. “To know how much it’s worth?”

“I know you’re good for it.” Wonwoo stands up and tosses the towel aside. “You can tell me while we do it. Exchanging classified information is a superior form of dirty talk, you know.”

It’s a smile he gets as a reward for his words and Wonwoo knows he deserves this even less than the meal Mingyu had cooked for him. The younger moves closer and Wonwoo stands his ground. He won’t flinch, no matter what Mingyu does to him here.

Heart rate picking up in anticipation, Wonwoo watches him bridge the distance between them, and then Mingyu’s no longer at his eye-line. Instead, he’s bending down to hook one arm around Wonwoo's waist, the other under the back of his knees.

And he lifts.

Wonwoo holds on to his shoulders, broad and mighty.

“What’s your favourite card in the deck?” he asks, kissing the graceful slope of Mingyu’s neck softly while the younger is navigating them to the bed.

A delighted rumble emerges from deep within Mingyu's chest. Wonwoo feels the shaking that comes from his amusement and he can’t decide which vibration he likes more: this right here, or the quivering of Mingyu's thighs after a particularly good orgasm.

“Where did that question come from?”

“Answer,” demands Wonwoo as Mingyu disposes him carefully above the bed.

Mingyu’s face hovers above his. Brown irises search for answers to questions never said aloud, but they’re not infiltrating, they’re knocking at Wonwoo’s door, asking for permission to come in. Wonwoo finds himself at the brink of giving it to them.

“Ace of hearts.”

“Not ace of spades?” He lifts himself from the mattress and kisses Mingyu once. Soft, but thorough. “I thought that was the best card.”

“You’ve been doing some reading.”

“It interests me and there’s no harm in extending my knowledge,” explains Wonwoo, although Mingyu wasn’t exactly objecting. “Who knows, maybe one of these days I’ll finally get a seat at the table.”

If that day ever comes, it would mean annulling his current agreement with Mingyu. They won’t have this anymore. Before, during, after—none of it matters. Though Wonwoo waits for a response, any response at all, Mingyu doesn’t give him one. He simply tugs at the drawstrings of Wonwoo’s pants.

“Why do you even bother putting on all these clothes?”

_Because when I’m stripped bare of all my defences, when I discard my armour, there are so many places left to stab me right through._

“You’re not ready for the sight of me in a bathrobe and nothing else.”

“Fuck,” he curses lowly. Wonwoo blinks. Mingyu rarely ever uses such harsh words. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Wonwoo undoes the buttons of his shirt while Mingyu helps him out of his pants, freeing himself of his own underwear in the process. All their clothes tossed aside, Mingyu stares down at him, lips curled in a smile so beautiful, so tender. As tender as the fingertips that trail Wonwoo’s jaw and tips his face up so they can kiss properly this time.

Fuel to fire.

It burns. Mingyu’s kisses. His touch. The knowledge that Wonwoo’s always felt most powerful when he’s naked but not this time, not with Mingyu. He turns himself on his stomach to avoid looking at Mingyu for too long, afraid that he might do something stupid if he does.

Mingyu doesn’t question him.

He trails a path down Wonwoo’s spine with open-mouthed kisses and Wonwoo lets him have the good tune he’s always said he liked. A soft moan here, a muted groan there. His hand come down to find Mingyu’s own, guide them where they need to be at this moment. Admittedly, Mingyu is quick to understand what Wonwoo is asking of him, but he’s also quick to cease all movements when Wonwoo’s response to his first finger is to have his entire body going rigid.

“You’re sensitive today.”

“You talk too much every day.”

“Did you…”

He grits his teeth, frustrated because Mingyu seems to have the time to converse but not to get inside Wonwoo’s twitching hole. “Less talking.”

“Are you sore?” Wonwoo doesn’t want to answer that but when Mingyu rubs at his perineum, he can’t stop the small wince that escapes him. “Alright. Let’s do it this way.”

Mingyu kisses the inner part of his left thigh before he withdraws from Wonwoo’s space, shifting around behind Wonwoo.

“What are you doing,” Wonwoo demands flatly.

“It’s called thigh-fucking.”

“I know that.” He rolls his eyes even as he helps Mingyu brings his thighs together and slides a pillow under Wonwoo’s stomach. “Why are you doing it.”

“Sex is about the pleasure of all parties involved.” He descends to press a kiss to the back of Wonwoo’s neck and adds a gentle bite as the cherry on top. “Trust me, I can get both of us off this way. Can I carry on now?”

“Can you do it in under five min-” Wonwoo’s cut off when Mingyu’s precome-slicked cock rests between his ass cheeks. The blunt head comes into contact with his balls, a searing pressure that can’t be ignored. “Minutes?” he finishes with a struggle.

Mingyu’s putting on that stupid smirk of his when Wonwoo looks at him over his shoulder and it annoys him how good he looks.

“How eager,” he comments lightly. “I guess we’ll see.”

Forget five minutes. Mingyu only needs three.

❤️ 🖤 🤍

Wonwoo has just come as a result of Mingyu’s tongue prodding insistently at his rim for the past ten minutes or so. His chest is still heaving from the physical exertion—who knew sitting on someone’s face would take so much energy? He’s pretty sure Mingyu did most of the work, considering in the last few minutes all Wonwoo did was lean back with his palms flat on Mingyu’s stomach and whimpered as Mingyu licked him thoroughly. His opening, then over his taint to his balls, back to his opening again. Mingyu had a routine of sorts, and yet every time Wonwoo felt the slippery wetness around his entrance, his entire body trembled.

“It was good.”

“Oh, was it? Couldn’t have known that from the way you came all over my face.” Mingyu answers sarcastically as he massages his neck, slightly sore from being clamped in between Wonwoo’s thighs.

Despite his words, the soft blush high on his prominent cheekbones betray his mockery. Wonwoo knows there’s a hint of pride there from having accomplished something that earns him a compliment. When Mingyu’s eyes finally find Wonwoo's, the younger man falters.

“Thank you for complimenting my oral skills…?”

His words sound unsure and Mingyu’s a minute away from fidgeting. Wonwoo makes the mistake of looking at Mingyu's reddened mouth, as he’s instantly reminded of why such colour is there in the first place. Mingyu gulps, waiting. Wonwoo follows the bobbing of his Adam’s apple up and down like a newfound religion.

Again, it's Mingyu who breaks first. “Won—”

“The food,” Wonwoo blurts out before he can lose his courage. “The food was good.”

The younger man tilts his head to the right. “You didn’t throw it out?”

“No,” he juts his chin out in defiance, a wordless challenge for Mingyu to call him out on his hypocrisy. Or his tardiness, maybe, seeing as it's been a couple of months since that night and Wonwoo's only managed to bring it up now. “I didn’t.”

But Mingyu just nods, eyes softening. “I’m glad you liked it, then.”

Wonwoo’s fucking possessed at this moment, there’s no other explanation for it. Mingyu must’ve eaten his ass out straight into the next dimension because the spirit of a court’s fool from the medieval times is taking over his life’s wheel.

The spirit forces these very words out of his mouth: “I wouldn’t mind if you bring some more with you the next time we meet.”

This is a dangerous, dangerous game. There are no rules except to try to stay above the currents that are threatening to pull you under, but Wonwoo is beginning to think that maybe drowning in Mingyu isn’t the worst way to go.

Mingyu being Mingyu simply answers, “Alright,” to Wonwoo’s plea concealed in a suggestion.

He leans in to kiss Wonwoo and the escort lets him, squeezes his eyes shut when their lips meet in the middle.

There’s a winning grin on Mingyu's face when they eventually part for air. Wonwoo’s not sure whether he wants to slap him or pull him in for another kiss. In the end, he does neither. The bed shifts when Mingyu’s weight leaves Wonwoo’s side to grab a bottle of water from the mini-bar. Wonwoo watches him go, one particular question in his head hounding him to voice it.

“Why’d you cook it in the first place?”

Mingyu straightens up and twists the cap of the bottle. “I learned something about you the day before.”

More important than _what_ Mingyu had learned, is _who_ he had learned it from. Wonwoo needs to cover all his bases at all times.

“From whom?”

He tips his head back and takes a gulp.

“Seungkwan,” Mingyu answers him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Went to collect my keys and he tried to turn me against you, or at least I think that’s what he was doing.”

“Did it work?”

The inquiry has Mingyu giving him a funny look. Well, to be fair to him if Seungkwan had succeeded in his efforts, Wonwoo is more likely to have died from food poisoning by now.

“He said you pit these people against one another and look down at them from your throne, enjoying the chaos you’ve created.” Mingyu supports his body against the top of the cabinet that holds the minibar, still in his naked glory. “Everyone is so focused on big commotion that nobody looks twice at what you’re really doing. How you’re practically stealing from us. Buying with two hours of your time what you can sell to feed a family for two years.”

Mingyu’s gaze shifts downward and Wonwoo follows his line of sight only to find that he’s been gripping the bedsheets tight enough for it to crumple in his fists. Clearing his throat, Wonwoo flexes his fingers and smooths over the cotton linen.

He knows this is coming. That one day someone will dig deep enough to uncover the truth. He also knows that whoever it is will not find themself in a position to stop him.

“For a while, I wondered about his choice of words. Stealing. Surely your cash flow statement is impressive with the way business is thriving, I see no expenditure to explain where all that opulence’s gone to.”

Wonwoo waits for it. The other shoe that’s going to drop sooner or later. The explosion that’s always bound to happen. The big bang, a full reset of the universe.

Then Mingyu comes to him and offers Wonwoo the water bottle with an outstretched hand.

Wonwoo accepts it from him. Lifts the bottle to his lips. Stops at Mingyu’s subsequent sentence.

“Then it hits me how Seungkwan only uses the word _steal_ when it means giving to the less fortunate. You’ve been donating the profits, huh, Robin Hood?”

All of a sudden, his throat is ten times as parched as it was before. Wonwoo empties the content of the plastic bottle into his mouth and it does nothing to alleviate the dryness.

“So what?” His voice is scratchy. Too scratchy. “Don’t tell me that appeals to you.”

“My parents taught me there is no such thing as unselfish good deeds in this world.”

Mingyu reaches for the empty bottle, squeezes the air out of it before he puts the cap back on and tosses it into the trash. Then he turns back around to look at Wonwoo.

“For the longest time, that’s what I believed in. That’s what I thought about you at first—how everything in your life is a mere transaction.”

God, he is handsome. Even more right now, smiling like this. Wonwoo’s facing great risk of losing track of their conversation with how far gone he is on that smile. Mingyu hikes a leg up on the bed and leans over Wonwoo, making him recline his body until his back is safely aligned with the mattress once again. Moist lips find their way to his own and Wonwoo circles his arms around Mingyu’s neck, pulling him down until there isn’t an inch left between them.

They separate with a small gasp and Mingyu immediately shifts to the side, fitting himself against Wonwoo’s back. His cock presses against the base of Wonwoo’s spine—though oddly, there’s little sexual connotation it. He thinks Mingyu might fall asleep like this, without further elaboration of what he had meant earlier, and Wonwoo reminds himself to seek clarification when they’re both less drowsy.

Except, just as with everything else, Mingyu exceeds his expectations once more.

“Until it isn’t,” Mingyu murmurs, mouth forming the words right below Wonwoo’s ear. His next sentence feels like a secret Wonwoo can’t ever pay him for. “I cooked you a meal because I wanted to.”

Wonwoo is unsure of how to reply to that, so he pretends to fall asleep over the next couple of minutes. In truth it is impossible to do so, considering his heart has relocated to the pit of his stomach and keeps on beating there, making Wonwoo feel seasick while miles away from the nearest body of water. It gets worse when Mingyu pulls the covers over the two of them and snuggles closer to him, whispering his good night in a tender voice.

He wonders exactly how many privileges meant to be kept for lovers Mingyu has allowed him to have.

He also wonders how many of these meetings of theirs have gone by without him setting a two-hour alarm in the beginning.

❤️ 🖤 🤍

Usually, Wonwoo appreciates being paid for his time to do a menial task of standing around and looking pretty. Adding to the general aesthetic of the scene. Some days he even prefers it more than sex. Faking a smile is much easier than faking a moan that can pass as authentic, especially when his partner doesn’t know what they’re doing.

Tonight he just feels like fire ants are crawling under his skin and it has nothing to do with the fact that everyone around is dressed in black and red. Wonwoo can’t remember what's the cause the benefit tonight but he knows at least half of the money raised won’t ever reach the advertised target. Foundations like these—they tend to blow up their spending with fraudulent invoices to skim off the earnings.

So he stands there to the side, leaning against the pillar of the long hall and swirling the bubbly drink in the tall glass in his hand. The guy who employed his services for the night is nowhere to be seen and Wonwoo couldn’t care less about finding him. He should probably leave and deal with the consequences later, because the more time he spends here the harder it becomes to ignore the obvious.

The obvious being Mingyu’s presence, ever-demanding of his attention.

“Hello,” he greets Wonwoo as if they're old acquaintances. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I’m working.”

What he means by that is _go away_ , but even if Wonwoo had flashed those words on a billboard with blinking LED lights, Mingyu would still choose to ignore all the signs. He comes closer to the escort instead and stands right beside him, making Wonwoo straighten his back as to not let Mingyu tower over him with his height.

They’re not touching, not yet, like Mingyu is trying to play the endurance game with Wonwoo to see who’ll reach out first. Wonwoo fixes his gaze straight in front of him and refuses to spare Mingyu even a glance.

“I can see that.” Mingyu clinks their glasses together and the resulting sound is cacophonous enough for Wonwoo to glare at him. “However, since your employer went to the bathroom fifteen minutes ago and hasn’t come back, I’ve decided to keep you company. You know he’s more likely to be snorting some white powder off of the marble sink right now than fixing his hair, yeah?”

“What makes you think I want company?” Wonwoo hisses at him; a cat with its hackles up. “And yours, at that?”

Turns out, it’s Mingyu who loses the game. Or maybe he doesn’t care about winning or losing, because he seems to throw away his position in the lead so easily.

“You’re wearing what looks like half a shirt coupled with a belly chain. The blazer helps, but the slits here…” Mingyu pokes at them with his fingers and Wonwoo fights the urge to seize his wrist as to not be perceived hostile by the people around them. “They just add to the allure. You might as well have walked into a wolf’s den with a bleeding wound. At least this one is a familiar beast, huh, little red?”

To put some distance between them, Wonwoo opts for the safer path of moving away from Mingyu’s grasp.

“Careful now. Don’t strain your brain with so many allusions at once, Young Master Kim.”

“The dress code suits you very well,” is what Mingyu replies to that.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, exasperated. Maybe Mingyu isn’t as bright as Wonwoo has perceived him to be after all. Their conversation isn’t even on the same bone anymore—the younger is jumping from one thought to another as he deems fit regardless of whether Wonwoo agrees with his change of direction.

“I look good wearing anything.”

“And you look good wearing nothing, too.”

“Well, that’s too bad.” Wonwoo clucks his tongue at Mingyu’s subtle suggestion.

He doesn’t know why he’s irritated tonight. Perhaps it was the supermodel hanging from Mingyu’s arms just minutes before, her perfect cleavage exposed in a way that’s impossible for a blind man to miss. If Mingyu wanted an arm candy, why not ask Wonwoo to do it? They’d look so good together, wouldn’t they?

Well. Fuck him, then. Whatever.

“I’m booked for the night,” he snaps when Mingyu stubbornly refuses to leave his side.

“Which hotel?” Mingyu asks. “I’ll get us a room at the same place. You can come to me after.”

There’s that word again. _After_.

It tastes bitter on Wonwoo’s tongue.

“Is that your idea of romance?” He scoffs. “Having someone else’s sloppy seconds, already tired and worn out from being fucked five different ways into the mattress? Or maybe that turns you on, knowing my hole’s already loose anyway? You can slide right in with no prep.”

In return, Mingyu cups his face with a gentleness that makes all the alarms in Wonwoo’s head blare in warning.

“Don’t be mean to me. I’ll just fall in love faster.”

A moment passes before Wonwoo fully registers Mingyu’s words. When he does, his breath catches somewhere behind his ribs. It floats there for an indefinite period and just as Wonwoo thinks he might faint from how lightheaded the confession makes him feel, Mingyu’s hand shifts to tilt his jaw upward.

Wonwoo glares bravely into a pair of rich chocolate eyes radiating warmth.

“Take your hands off the goods you’re not paying for.”

“Alright.” He chuckles and takes his hand off Wonwoo’s face, but his fingertips drag across skin.They linger like ghosts Wonwoo can’t run away from no matter how hard he tries. “So, what hotel?”

“You really don’t know when to quit.”

“Of course I do. I should quit when I’m ahead, right? But with you, I’m _never_ ahead.” Mingyu gives him a lopsided grin as if he doesn’t have any problem with this. Some lives for the thrill of the chase, after all. “If you do plan on having that much sex, it’d be better to walk down the hall to my room and sleep it off than limp all the way back to your place.”

He hates it. Hates that he wants to say yes. Hates that Mingyu created _after_ out of thin air because he wants there to be a time for them. Hates that he gives Wonwoo a purpose beyond himself. Hates that though this is everything he never thought he would do, everything he’d vow against over and over again—none of it feels wrong.

Most of all, he hates how he _doesn’t_ hate Mingyu.

Wonwoo cranes his neck to reach Mingyu’s ear, mouth purposefully brushing against the younger’s cheek on the way there. He gives Mingyu the name of the hotel and leaves right after the last syllable is spoken, not bothering to look back at the younger man who doesn’t catch up to him. The way Mingyu’s eyes follow his figure everywhere for the remainder of the night is unmistakable, gaze burning a hole through Wonwoo’s previously impregnable defences.

❤️ 🖤 🤍

“Oh,” Mingyu’s lips part in surprise when he opens the door and finds Wonwoo on the other side. He’s still dressed in his attire for the night. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until later.”

He crosses his arms across his chest. “Do you want me here or don’t you?”

Mingyu tilts his head and tries to gauge the meaning behind his tone. Wonwoo just stares at him blankly in return, leaving Mingyu to sigh after a moment.

“You and I both know that wasn’t a protest, Wonwoo.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo nods to show his satisfaction with Mingyu’s answer. “Let me in.”

The younger steps to the side and motions to the room with his hand. _Come in_. Wonwoo brushes past Mingyu and makes his way inside before his thoughts can convince him to leave again. Mingyu locks the door behind him, the key making a _click_ sound that echoes in Wonwoo’s consciousness.

Well, this is it. What he came here for.

“What happened to hair product guy?”

“Knocked out.” Last Wonwoo’s seen him, he was lying face-down on the mattress of the room they were supposed to use, two floors up from this one. Breathing—Wonwoo checked. He’s thorough like that. “Must’ve taken some valium or something.”

“His loss,” Mingyu comments, light.

He walks toward Wonwoo who doesn’t move an inch from his spot. Once they’re close enough, Wonwoo presses his body into Mingyu’s and makes sure their cocks are aligned down south, even if there are still layers separating them at the moment. Mingyu glances down and smirks, triumphant.

“My gain.”

Wonwoo kisses him. For the first few moments, it’s a vicious battle between the two of them. Who gets to lead, who gets to press their tongue down on the other’s, who gets to nip at lush lips.

Always the pleaser, it takes less than a minute for Mingyu to give in and starts singing to Wonwoo’s tune. Together they stumble in the direction of the bed, or at least that’s what Wonwoo thinks because he has his eyes closed the entire time. Mingyu’s arms around him have a singular purpose: to protect.

Whenever they are close to bumping into something, Mingyu sets a barricade between Wonwoo and the piece of furniture using his own body. Soon enough the back of Wonwoo’s knees hit the mattress and he licks inside Mingyu’s mouth one more time, collecting the taste he’d developed an addiction for. Then he releases Mingyu and falls back on the bed, limbs outstretched. His top rides to up to his midriff, a situation Mingyu is quick to take advantage of.

The younger bends down and Wonwoo spreads his leg to accommodate him. Mingyu licks a hot stripe over Wonwoo’s stomach, tongue catching at the clasp of the gold chain there. He looks up at him with hooded eyes, his desires flaring behind blown pupils.

“How expensive is this thing?”

What he’s really asking for is how much trouble is he going to get into for tearing it off Wonwoo’s body.

In lieu of a verbal answer, Wonwoo simply pushes his hair back and reaches down to tug at the clasp until the chain falls loose around his waist. The edges around the back are still uncomfortable where they dig into Wonwoo’s spine. It gets worse for a moment as Mingyu dives back in to map the rest of the unblemished skin of his abdomen, the action pushing Wonwoo’s body into the mattress.

Without being asked, Mingyu rids him of the discomfort. As the wet heat that surrounds Wonwoo’s belly button has him arching into Mingyu’s mouth, making him desperate for more, the younger slides the chain from underneath his body. He sets it to the side without looking at it and starts trailing his way up to Wonwoo’s sternum, lifting the older’s top until it’s bunched up beneath his chin.

“Help me out of this,” says Wonwoo.

Mingyu stops raining kisses on his flesh to comply. Wonwoo sits up on the bed, one of Mingyu’s knees placed conveniently in between his spread legs, dangerously close to Wonwoo’s erection tenting in his black pantsuit.

“Necklace first,” Mingyu murmurs, then he leans forward to carefully remove it from around Wonwoo’s head without letting the cold metal touch his face. He takes the necklace along with the belly chain, sets them both above the dresser by the bed. “All good.”

He slips two hands underneath Wonwoo’s blazer next, warmth spreading across the escort’s shoulders as he shrugs the article off Wonwoo’s pliant form.

Another surface penetrated, another mask taken off.

“This, too?” asks Mingyu, palm smoothening over the flat of Wonwoo’s torso.

Wonwoo nods his assent.

Mingyu’s fingers skirt the edge of his bottom hem, tentative. The older spends the entire time looking at Mingyu’s face, memorising all the details he can find. The slight furrowing of his eyebrows, the determined curl of his lips. When Mingyu begins to take off his top, his entire being seem to light up with more of Wonwoo’s body being exposed to his sight. His eyes rake freely over Wonwoo’s chest like it’s the first time he’s seen him like this, a quiet sort of reverence to his attentiveness.

There are chains on Mingyu’s outfit, too, dangling from the junction between his neck and shoulder and crossing the expanse of his torso. Wonwoo curls his fingers around them and yanks the younger down as soon as Mingyu frees him of the shirt. He meets Mingyu halfway with his mouth first, a soft force that builds up to an explosion of colours behind closed lids. Mingyu sighs against his mouth and Wonwoo gets a sweet whiff of the champagne he was drinking at the event before.

It’s all too easy to get lost in the feeling of it all, the euphoria, but Wonwoo’s pulled back to the present when Mingyu’s hand snakes between their bodies, agile digits now working to undo the belt holding the upper half of his attire together. Wonwoo stops him with a firm grip around his wrist, making Mingyu pull away.

“I’ll do it. Will you let me?”

“Of course.”

He undoes the buckle first and Mingyu’s shirt practically falls apart after that, making Wonwoo realise just how little of it is actually stitched together. Running his hand down Mingyu’s torso, his touch is rewarded by Mingyu’s muscle continuously contracting and relaxing under the whorls of his fingertips. A gorgeous reaction for a gorgeous man. 

“Didn’t you get cold wearing this?”

“You wore less fabric than I did,” Mingyu points out.

That is true, Wonwoo supposes. The difference is he was paid a good sum to suffer through the night while Mingyu could have worn rags and still be the best-dressed individual in the room.

“Beauty is pain.”

“So?” He lifts his chin, indignant. “I’m beautiful, too.”

What a distinctive response that was. Wonwoo can’t help the laugh that bubbles inside him and makes its getaway through parted lips. A split second later, Mingyu’s hands come to seize his wrist.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Can you do that again?”

“Do what?”

“The sound,” he says in a quiet voice. “The one you made just now.”

Wonwoo stares at him, caught in his incomprehension until the thought clicks in his head. He laughs again, softer this time, then kisses the inner of Mingyu’s wrist.

“Ah,” Mingyu bites his lips hard enough that the red there is replaced by a paler shade. “Thank you.”

Manners does maketh man.

And what a man Mingyu is.

He says _you’re welcome_ by kissing Mingyu again, forcing the younger to lean forward to meet his lips since both his knees are propped up on the mattress now. Wonwoo releases him to trail kisses down his neck, to his collarbone, then follows the path of his sternum. Down, down, and down he goes. Mingyu’s palm slides over his nape in wordless encouragement.

His final kiss land right above Mingyu’s navel because he can’t go any further than that without breaking his spine. Wonwoo lies back down and lazily flicks the button of Mingyu’s pants. He drags the zipper down slowly, Mingyu allowing him to savour this moment without a protest. Wonwoo pushes his pants down just far enough to pull Mingyu’s cock out of his underwear.

One languid stroke to smear the precum beading around the head along his shaft and Mingyu’s eyes flutter close in gratification.

“What should we try tonight?” he asks in a low breath, leaning down to rest their foreheads together as Wonwoo continues to caress him.

“Does it have to be exciting every time?”

Mingyu withdraws from his space again, palms flat on either side of Wonwoo’s head as he looks down at him curiously.

“What, did you take valium, too?”

The escort sighs. “Shut your mouth and just do me like this, come on.”

“Like what?”

“Oh my _God_.” He releases his hold around Mingyu’s cock to smack him on the chest. “On my back, you little shit. Missionary.” Wonwoo can’t believe Mingyu is making him spell it out like this. “I just worked for three appointment blocks. That’s six hours straight, most of it standing. What does a man have to do to get an orgasm around here?”

“A man,” Mingyu pokes Wonwoo’s cheek in faux reprimand, “has to mind his tone.”

“Please.” Yielding to him, Wonwoo bats his lashes slowly. “I could’ve gone anywhere but you’re the only one I want.” _You’re the after that I didn’t know I needed_. “The only one who can make me feel the things I want to feel tonight.”

“Just me?”

“Only you,” Wonwoo confirms. “Please.”

His words prove enough to satisfy Mingyu’s craving for validation, his need to be special in all ways possible including this—pleasing Wonwoo. It probably helps that Wonwoo’s thrown a couple of _please’_ s there, too. Mingyu’s not the type to make his partner beg for it but he does appreciate being given the proper incentive.

“Lift your hips for me so I can take your pants off.” He trails his hands down Wonwoo’s body, one on either side of his waist before he stops to admire the view presented to him. “Belt’s pretty.”

“It's just ribbons.”

Mingyu toys with the red strings. Weaves his fingers in between them, then pulls lightly. “Makes me want to tie you up with it.”

God. Wonwoo would _love_ that. But—

“Another time,” Wonwoo grouses as Mingyu pinches the black fabric at the thighs to tug it down, “I want to touch you.”

He gets a grin for that and Mingyu rips his pants all the way off before he tosses it carelessly to the side, the article landing somewhere on the floor of the hotel room with a dull thump. Wonwoo closes his eyes as Mingyu begins to mouth at the head of his cock, his licks teasing—like a prologue, an introduction. His palms are flat against the back of Wonwoo’s thigh, their directive clear.

Wonwoo hooks his legs over his shoulders and traps Mingyu in between. He quickly reaches for a pillow so he can witness the act of service at a better angle. When he finally succeeds and opens his eyes, Mingyu decides it’s time to bring him as deep into his mouth as he can. Feeling himself hit the back of Mingyu’s throat, Wonwoo’s spine curves into a tight arch. Mingyu holds him there for a few moments. He’s suspending Wonwoo right at the edge of the cliff; whether Wonwoo plummets down below is entirely up to him.

“Hey.”

The younger trails his tongue on the underside of Wonwoo’s dick and pulls away with a wet sound. “Hm? What?”

“I haven’t prepped.” Wonwoo cards his fingers through Mingyu’s dark locks, styled neatly tonight as opposed to the disarrayed mop he was sporting when they first met. “Do you want to do it for me? Or do you want to watch me finger myself?”

Mingyu crawls up the bed to kiss Wonwoo chastely as an answer. There’s a snick of a bottle being uncapped while they’re kissing and Wonwoo doesn’t know where it came from, but he’s not about to protest. Cold fingers trace the outer of his rim, Wonwoo’s focus shifting toward the sensation entirely. He barely feels Mingyu’s first digit pushing its way inside because the younger bites at his lower lip hard enough to distract him from the initial sting.

“Ah,” Wonwoo breaks free from his mouth. “Don’t rub there…”

“You can come once like this,” Mingyu breathes against his neck. “Then you can come again with me inside you.”

“No—” _No_. “No,” he says again when Mingyu’s insistence on stimulating the small bundle of nerves remains. “I’m tired. I can’t come twice, so—” His words are lost when Mingyu forgoes rubbing and crooks his finger upward. “ _Please, no_.”

There’s an amused chuckle before the finger straightens inside him again, now massaging Wonwoo’s inner walls while avoiding his sweet spot.

“Alright, alright.”

Wonwoo keeps quiet after that—he's scarce with his words, at least. The noises Mingyu loves to hear from him so much, he still allows him to have. He murmurs the younger’s name over and over again in between moans of satisfaction. It spurs Mingyu on to add another finger, and then another before long.

Three fingers in and Mingyu’s nibbling at his ear, asking, “How are you feeling?”

Knowing that the younger can’t see his expression in their current position, Wonwoo smiles freely. “Like being strapped to a rocket going to the dark side of the moon.”

“What does that even mean,” Mingyu laughs, then the sound is cut off by a sharp groan when Wonwoo tightens up around him. “ _Wonwoo_.”

“Good, baby. I feel damn good.”

It’s the truth. More and more of it bleeds into Wonwoo’s subsequent sentence whenever he’s speaking to Mingyu. Where has all the pretence gone? The act? They are all crumbling alongside Wonwoo’s resistance, his _resolve_.

“How do you do this so well? You’re touching me in places no one has ever even thought of and it’s— _ah—_ driving me insane.” The kisses along the column of Wonwoo’s neck grows in intensity. “It’s like you learn something new every time we do this and the next time—ngh—it’s putting those things in practice, at all once.”

Mingyu’s breath hitches in the dim lighting of the room; the sound a gunshot to Wonwoo’s ears.

“You’re so good to me, you know? _Perfect,_ ” he practically purrs through the last word.

Wonwoo lifts a hand to Mingyu’s nape and feels him burning there. A low but steady heat.

“I mean it,” he says softly, applying gentle pressure at the base of Mingyu’s skull. Sure, at first it was a manipulation tool to get the younger hooked on him, but even before he fully realised it Wonwoo started giving him praises because he very well deserves them. “There’s no place I’d rather be than here.”

At that Mingyu lets himself up to look at Wonwoo properly and the escort uses the opportunity to push his dark fringes, now slightly damp with sweat, out of his handsome face.

“Carry on,” he prompts gently. “I want you inside me.”

The younger nods and shifts back on the bed.

“These thighs,” he massages the plump meat with a purpose before his hands pry open the escort’s legs. Mingyu fits himself in between and aligns his dick with Wonwoo’s entrance. “I’d get you to wear thigh-highs one day.”

Wonwoo’s cock throbs against his stomach at the mental image Mingyu’s words conjure. That, and the ease with which Mingyu keeps referring to the future. _Next time_ , _after, one day—_ like he’s had a timeline planned out and Wonwoo’s included in every single item in the agenda.

Wonwoo's job relies mostly on his ability to make people lose themselves in the moment, in _him,_ but Mingyu proves he’s immune to that, at least to an extent. He’s halfway through processing the reaction when Mingyu pushes in—and all of his thoughts die a swift death at the edge of a blunt sword.

“Holy _shit_.”

He exhales shakily through his mouth. Mingyu settles inside like Wonwoo was carved out for him in the first place, like Wonwoo was created from his ribs for the purpose of being his companion. His hands hold either side of Wonwoo’s waist once he’s buried to the hilt. If he shifts it just a bit more toward Wonwoo’s abdomen, he can probably feel himself through Wonwoo’s stomach easily.

“How’d you want it?”

“Hard,” Wonwoo answers without missing a beat. “Hard and fast.”

“Are we in a rush?”

Wonwoo’s not too far gone to not notice the real question. Mingyu wants to know if there will be a timer going off sometime in the near future. He wants to know if Wonwoo will allow him to keep him after. He wants to know, are they in a hurry for another reason besides Wonwoo’s impatience and desperation for his cock?

So Wonwoo tells him the truth. “There’ll be no rush the second time.”

Mingyu hums in response and starts delivering his slams like there will be _no_ second time. The pistoning of his hips is so ferocious it would have sent Wonwoo flying toward the headboard if it weren’t for his burdening grip. Wonwoo takes it, takes _him_ —all of him.

The sounds they are making must be downright obscene to anyone else’s ears, but to Wonwoo it’s a soulful rendition of Monteverdi’s _L'incoronazione di Poppea_. Here Mingyu is the great emperor Nero and Wonwoo himself is Poppaea, the mistress who used intrigues to be crowned empress.

“Yes.” Another thrust. “Yes, just like that. So _good_. Please, Mingyu, I want to—” Wonwoo whines, high-pitched.

Mingyu swallows his sounds, mouth slotted on Wonwoo’s as insistent as his propulsions are. He gasps and digs his nails into Mingyu’s upper arms hard enough to leave crescent moons when he releases them. The younger keeps going, slick heat sliding in and out of Wonwoo, arousal unquestionable in the hardness of him.

It grows increasingly difficult for Wonwoo to maintain the same amount of restraint he showed in the beginning. What he needs more than anything is for Mingyu to let go so he’ll be free to do the same. And now Mingyu’s kissing him deeply, tongue tracing the bottom row of Wonwoo’s teeth, breath hot but sweet.

“Come first, Wonwoo,” he whispers against Wonwoo’s swollen lips. “I know you can. Come and I’ll be right behind you.”

Wonwoo gasps; open, broken.

For the longest time, sex hasn’t been about this.

 _Pleasure_.

Just as everyone else, Wonwoo might feel the rush of ecstasy while he’s tossing around in bed, but then he’d go back to the comfort of his own space and scrub himself raw of the traces of sin. He’d sit down at his table and write his report, analysing _sex_ like it was an interrogation. What conclusions can he draw from the words whispered in one’s most vulnerable moments, seconds away from release? When the other person’s hold around their reins isn’t so tight?

And then Mingyu barges his way in—suddenly sex is about things coming together and not falling apart. 

“Come on?” Mingyu’s voice is unstable but his tone is as gentle as always. The universe realigns. “Come, Wonwoo.”

As though it was a command, Wonwoo obeys it.

He spills hot ribbons in between their bodies and has half a silly thought that this is the type of rope Mingyu can’t bind him with—or can he? Knowing Mingyu, he might be able to find a way to do so.

Mingyu wraps a hand around him and jerks Wonwoo off with a fervour characteristic to him. Wonwoo bucks his hips up into his fist and paints Mingyu’s hand all the way to his wrist with his release.

His breathing is erratic. Who knows how fast Wonwoo’s heart is going right now. He can barely open his eyes but through the small opening, he can see Mingyu smiling faintly with pride written all over his features. Wonwoo blindly grabs his face and kisses him again, using what little is left of his energy to push down on Mingyu.

And he was right—Mingyu’s right behind Wonwoo when it comes to this.

He slumps against Wonwoo once he’s through, hips still stuttering every once in a while until they completely stop. They’re sticking to each other; a result of sweat, come, and magnetic pull.

Mingyu flips over to the side when Wonwoo pats his back, a signal that his weight is starting to make it difficult for Wonwoo to breathe. The younger reaches to his top—somehow it remains above the bed after all the rough-housing they had been doing—and wipes them down quickly. Not thorough, but enough for now.

The room is silent save for their concomitant breathing. Wonwoo basks in both the idyll and afterglow of his high, eyes closed the entire time until Mingyu can no longer stand the quietude.

“So.”

Wonwoo blinks and looks down at Mingyu. “What?”

“There’s been talk about—”

He covers Mingyu’s mouth with his right hand and shakes his head. “It’s fine. I didn’t come here for business.”

Fingers come to wrap around Wonwoo’s wrist. Mingyu removes the hand covering his mouth and asks, “You didn’t?”

“I came here for you.”

A beat.

“Mixing business with pleasure now, are we?”

There’s something off in his tone and Wonwoo understands its origin perfectly.

“I wasn’t putting on a show for your benefit,” he elaborates further. “As I already told you, no business. Just pleasure.”

 _For once_.

Uncharacteristically, Mingyu has no immediate reply. It takes him a minute, perhaps even longer, before he presses his face against Wonwoo’s ribs and delivers his answer there.

“I see.”

Butterflies flutter their wings inside the escort’s chest cavity at how Mingyu’s words reverberate across his skin.

“You know, being with you is like playing a game and having a royal flush in your hand,” Mingyu breathes out, shallow.

This is a test, similar to what _are we in a rush?_ was. Yes, Wonwoo has been looking more and more into ways of infiltrating these games on his own, but somewhere along the way, his reasoning has shifted. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with Mingyu anymore, it’s that he doesn’t want that the only reason they keep meeting is for these exchanges.

“That’s the best possible hand, isn’t it?”

Mingyu tilts his face up and the gaze he sends in Wonwoo’s way is electrifying. “Not when you’re playing with wild cards.”

The escort twists his hand in Mingyu’s hold and intertwines their fingers. Hope flickers in the younger’s eyes at Wonwoo’s deed and it is an enthralling look on him.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“What did I say?” The question is genuine, no hint of baiting or mockery. Mingyu’s thumb caresses the length of Wonwoo’s own as he continues, “I think I do most of the talking between the two of us, so you might have to be a little more specific here.”

“About falling in love.”

His mouth opens to form a small ‘o’ and then Mingyu is giving him the clarification he seeks. “In that case, then yes. I did mean it.”

“And what would you have me do with it, Mingyu?”

The younger’s brows furrow. “With what?”

“With that confession,” Wonwoo reiterates, trying his best to be patient. “With that secret.”

“Keep it in the folder with my name on it, I guess.”

“That’s it?”

“You can tell me to leave you alone,” Mingyu says, not quite an answer to Wonwoo’s question. "There's already too much ammunition in my folder for me to risk not complying with your request.”

The feeling he often gets when he’s around Mingyu rises to the surface. Wonwoo focuses not on naming it, but on letting it materialise. Eventually, it takes the form a wave. One of tranquillity, realisation, and acceptance all at once. He wasn’t able to name it before simply because it was unknown to him.

When he first started doing this, Wonwoo made the rule not to continue having arrangements with a client who’s fallen for him. Never once did he think that the reverse is a possibility—never once did he account for Kim Mingyu.

This is yet another neglected probability coming back to haunt Wonwoo in the form of sincere smiles and tender touches.

It’s not love, at least not yet. For now, it’s the bridge between infatuation and devotion. Mingyu lays the road ahead of them carefully brick by brick, has been doing so since their very first meeting, if Wonwoo has to guess.

Even if he wants to fight it, which he doesn’t, it makes little sense to let Mingyu slip through his fingers. It’s not like Wonwoo is using him to fill any kind of void. He wasn’t secretly yearning for affection before Mingyu came around, much less expect it to arrive in the strangest form possible. But just because something works the way it always does, doesn’t mean it can’t be improved.

Who is Wonwoo to fight this? To fight him? The person who collided right into his path and whack everything out of revolution only give them a new axis.

“Okay, good,” he says eventually.

Mingyu props himself up on his elbow so he can get a better look at Wonwoo. The hope there is now replaced by an overwhelming amount of inquisitiveness and Wonwoo wonders how can a whole universe be trapped in someone’s eyes.

“What does _okay, good_ mean?”

"It means you're not blinded by this," Wonwoo gesticulates to the two of them. "You know me. You know what I do. You're not under any illusion that things would be different because there are feelings involved. We're not living a fairytale."

"Oh."

“It also means I didn’t slip hair product guy the best-grade valium I can find in such short notice for nothing,” Wonwoo offers him honesty.

At that, Mingyu’s eyes crinkle at the corners first before Wonwoo hears the mellifluous sound of his laughter, full of mirth.

“God. You really are something.” Mingyu wipes the amused tear with the back of his hand before he uses that very same hand to frame Wonwoo’s jaw. He speaks the next words onto Wonwoo’s lips, carves them out across the curve like an irrefutable fact. “You’re everything.”

❤️ 🖤 🤍

It takes Wonwoo another four months and countless home-made dinners after that to finally invite Mingyu to his apartment. He toyed with the decision for a couple of weeks, going back and forth on his stance before he woke up one morning with Mingyu’s arm slung possessively across his middle, the younger mumbling his name in his sleep.

The place is much more humble than what his profession might have alluded to and so is his appearance when he’s not on the clock, so he shouldn’t be surprised when Mingyu’s jaw drops at the sight of him.

“Too plain for your liking?” Wonwoo asks, slightly nervous. “I thought using body highlighter would be a bit much considering we’re just staying in.”

Mingyu quickly gathers his composure and leans down to kiss Wonwoo on the lips. Soft but meaningful.

“Not at all.” He pulls away only to kiss Wonwoo’s cheek. “Felt like I stepped into paradise just now, so I had to acclimatise.”

Wonwoo drags him inside by the front of his shirt.

This time around, Wonwoo returns Mingyu’s favours. It’s about time he catches up to the younger’s score on their tally board. Despite his best attempt at fixing them both a meal, though, Mingyu is enveloping him in an octopus hug which makes it difficult for Wonwoo to move around.

He doesn’t protest.

“Hey,” Mingyu calls just as Wonwoo’s dicing tomato for the stew. “I have a confession to make.”

“Go ahead,” answers Wonwoo over his shoulder, “just remember that I’m holding a knife. And what a shame it would be if I have to deprive the world of what your tongue can do.”

Mingyu sighs and nuzzles into the crook of Wonwoo’s neck, rubbing the tip of his nose over and over again on the warm skin there. Wonwoo feels himself heating up from the contact and not all of it is generated by friction, either.

“Love it when you’re mean to me.”

 _No, you loved the hidden compliment,_ Wonwoo wants to say. He doesn't, and simply lifts the knife in his hand to their line of sight. “Talk.”

The younger chuckles and releases him, moving to stand next to Wonwoo and lean against the kitchen counter. He mirrors Wonwoo’s nervousness from earlier and the seconds feel so long before he finally opens his mouth again.

“I didn’t lose that poker game with Seungkwan.”

Wonwoo puts the knife down. “That’s it?” Fuck, Mingyu almost sent him into cardiac arrest. “I already know that.”

“Huh? How?”

“You shouldn’t have said the words _cognitive bias_ to me.” Since the crisis has been averted, Wonwoo returns his attention to dicing his tomatoes. “It gave you away almost instantly. The illusion that you’re dumb enough to bet something worth anything to you just falls apart.”

“Technically, I _did_ lose,” Mingyu points out, “but it was on purpose.”

“Why?”

He steals a piece of tomato from Wonwoo’s cutting board and Wonwoo should stab him for that, but again, he doesn’t.

“Needed a reason to come see you.” Mingyu pops the tomato into his mouth, the juice staining his bottom lip, making it shine. “Been hearing things about you and catching glimpses of you here and there, but you’ve always been too elusive, so I had to come under the pretence of doing business.”

Wonwoo just hums in that, taking it all in, until—

“You traded a one point five billion won penthouse for two hours of me sitting in your lap,” he deadpans, the realisation catching up to him.

Mingyu is… ridiculous. More so than the premise of trading secrets for sex.

“Worth it.” There’s a thin piece of skin stuck in between his crooked front teeth when he grins. Wonwoo is more endeared than he should be while looking at him. “Plus I got the penthouse back, so technically I lost nothing. It was a good bargain from how I see it.”

“Rich people are truly a different breed,” he comments without a hint of malice. Wonwoo finishes dicing and sets the cutting board aside. The knife, too. He turns to Mingyu. “You do realise that this isn’t going to be easy.”

“Huh? What is?”

“Us.”

Mingyu stiffens slightly upon hearing the word, but the tension melts out of him just as quickly, replaced by a barely concealable smile on his lips.

“Ah. How so?”

Putting his hands on his hips, Wonwoo gives Mingyu a pointed look. “Don’t tell me your parents haven’t had word with you about me.”

“Oh, they have.” There. His suspicion is now confirmed. “My mother especially had plenty of things to say, none of them kind.”

“Right.”

“I mean, what are they going to do? Produce another male heir after twenty years of not touching each other?” The questions pose as rhetorical ones to Wonwoo, so he doesn’t provide them with an answer. “Don’t worry, they’re stuck with me. Which means respecting my choices.”

Wonwoo opens his mouth to protest but Mingyu’s fast enough to beat him to it.

“And I,” Mingyu delivers a kiss to Wonwoo’s temple, “choose you.”

Okay. Even if they can navigate past the barriers on Mingyu’s side of the equation successfully, there are still a thousand landmines on Wonwoo’s just waiting to be detonated.

“People are not going to like finding out that I’m in a relationship.”

Mingyu nods in understanding.

“This particular kind of ball and chains,” he refers to himself, “is bad for business, huh?” His cheery tone is offset by the dimmed light of his eyes. “You don’t have to stop sleeping with other people if you don’t want to. I won’t strip you of your trade like that.”

Sex is the least of the issues. For all parts of him that is greedy and proprietorial, Mingyu definitely minds the aspect, that much is obvious to Wonwoo. But those parts are outweighed by the trust he put in Wonwoo’s words when he told him one particular secret: the only time Wonwoo isn't performing is when he’s with Mingyu.

“’s not that.”

“It’s not?”

Wonwoo looks at his lover and almost lets him on the big plan—how he thinks soon enough he would have established a solid enough ground to stop exchanging sex for power altogether. How Mingyu gives him both at once, only asking to be loved in return. Mingyu’s hand come to rest at the edge of his shoulder, the heel of his palm meeting Wonwoo’s skin, fingers toying with the frays of his purple top there.

He decides to save it for later.

It’s a secret he’ll reward Mingyu with—no price tag on it.

“Well, it’s not _only_ that.”

“I’m lost,” Mingyu mumbles softly, ducking his head down to find Wonwoo’s eyes. A moment later, his fingers still. “Are you… hyung, this isn’t you giving up, isn’t it?”

Ah, yes. The younger man calls him hyung now, in increasing frequency over time. Once he knows Wonwoo’s fine with him breaking down that wall between them, he uses the term generously. He’s sweet like this, careful and considerate. Loving. Loving enough to raise the question he just did.

Wonwoo reaches for Mingyu’s face. Of late, he realises he never spares glances at the clock anymore when they’re together. Now Wonwoo lets two hours melt into twenty-four with ease, and when that period passes, there’s still a lifetime left to fall for this man.

“If it’s for you, even mountains with the harshest winds I would still climb.”

_I choose you, too._

Without wasting another heartbeat, Mingyu swoops down to kiss him. Properly this time, his mouth slotting perfectly with Wonwoo’s own.

“They’re not going to be happy about the fact that I have allegiances now,” Wonwoo says upon separation. “That I’d never betray you for any price.”

“Don’t worry,” the younger laughs a little, probably amused by Wonwoo’s words. “I don’t have that many enemies. I think.”

Oh, Wonwoo knows. He had come up with a list of people that might become a threat to Mingyu and rallied his troops of whisperer to find as much leverage as possible against them. The list isn’t long because Mingyu’s family is a name well-respected enough not to be messed with. Wonwoo’s intel gathering is more of insurance; a failsafe, a soothing to his worries.

“No. It’s about my motivation, you see? When it was just money I cared about, things are much simpler.”

Mingyu raises both brows in question.

“My drive made me predictable,” Wonwoo carries on. “I could be bought by the highest bidder, no matter who it was. Now they won’t know what I’d choose to do in a situation because I’d have to make sure the outcome of my decision doesn’t come back around and harm you.”

“Am I in trouble, then?”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “Baby, you’re untouchable.” He thinks of Mingyu’s folder, the ashes that remained of it, secrets inside not meant for anyone else to discover. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“I don’t mind trouble.” Wonwoo knows he means this, regardless of the kind of challenge might come their way. “Being by your side’s more important than anything else.”

“I know.”

He does.

“You said the word relationship, by the way.”

It’s cute how Mingyu still thinks there is a single word that comes out of Wonwoo that’s unintentional. He is perfectly aware of what he said, thank you very much.

Wonwoo grabs his face with one hand and playfully growls, “Don’t make me take it back.”

“I know you won’t,” he pokes Wonwoo’s cheek. “You’re just bluffing, because you actually loooooooove me,” Mingyu sings-songs, child-like.

He’s partially joking, but all traces of joviality is quickly stripped out of his features when Wonwoo gazes ardently at him in return. All of his movements halt.

“You love me,” says Mingyu, awe-struck. It was a statement; one he doesn’t quite believe in yet. “Wait.” It’s well within his nature to then ask, “You love me?”

There are so many things he can say at this moment, so many different arrangements of words that each have a different impact—but they all mean one thing. They are all affirmative in nature. Mingyu was right before when he says he does the most talking between the two of them. He does _enough_ talking _for_ the two of them.

So the answer Wonwoo offers him is in the form of a small nod. A tad shy, a tad vulnerable.

Just like that, Mingyu’s mouth comes to rest above Wonwoo’s before his lips part, granting Wonwoo permission to enter. This might be how it feels to have a winning hand when the pot’s overfilling—but the taste that coats his lover’s tongue, Wonwoo decides right there and then, is inherently richer than any gold.

When Mingyu’s fingers weave in between his own as the younger pulls him impossibly close, Wonwoo puts aside all his wild cards to allow space for love to grow.

❤️ 🖤 🤍

**Author's Note:**

> seventeen dropped quote-unquote cock music and here i am again... when will i learn
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/bioominsummer) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/bloominsummer)


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